


Vampire in the Bathroom

by Fictropes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunkenness, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes
Summary: And even if Phil wasn’t too nice a person, he’d still probably pick in here as opposed to out there. Hanging out with a dude who looked like he was about to drown in toilet water was literally the better alternative.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 109





	Vampire in the Bathroom

**Author's Note:**

> tw: vomit
> 
> ALSO... i learnt i could use the crab emoji as a page break so enjoy that so much

“I’m not drunk, 'm not.” The body collapsed over the toilet is talking to Phil, but all Phil can think about is how much he needs a piss. He could use the sink, but that’d be fucked up because there’s a literal person in here to witness it. He could politely clear his throat, or kick the person in the shin until they get the hint and move. But he’s not one for confrontation, so instead he tries to think about not pissing—pictures all of his insides as sponges.

The person makes a noise, and it’s something pathetic. Something that means Phil is going to spend at least an extra five minutes metaphorically crossing his legs because he’s too much of a helper. There’s a bottle of something on the floor—Malibu, Phil thinks—and he could technically piss in that. 

“You good?” Phil asks, shutting the door behind him. And even if Phil wasn’t too nice a person, he’d still probably pick in here as opposed to out there. Hanging out with a dude who looked like he was about to drown in toilet water was literally the better alternative.

He hates parties, especially ones with gay strippers that he’s convinced himself he can’t look at. Because it’s alright for everyone else to look, but for Phil it’s definitely somehow illegal.

“Not gonna throw up either.” The toilet goblin is still speaking, not even paying attention to Phil and his internal battle. He honestly looks a bit cozy, a bit at peace with the porcelain. Phil’s only been here for a couple of hours and he’s already forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable, he’s spent so much of his night anxiously pacing from room to room—diverting his eyes. All his bones feel incorrect, and his heart has probably moved around in his chest just a bit. He’s just not good at—this.

“I know.” Phil agrees.“You just like sitting like that. Chairs are overrated, I think. I was actually gonna sit with my face in the toilet but you beat me to it.'' He laughs, because he’s trying to lighten the mood he’s created in his own head. 

“Shutup.” And the glare he gets might’ve been intimating if the guy’s eyes weren’t so glassy,if his hair wasn’t stuck to his head via a definite layer of sweat, if he wasn’t so… cute.

“Okay, sorry.” He replies, and he suddenly feels like he’s being a complete nuisance as opposed to the help he was _trying_ to be.

"Who-"The sick comes out then, cutting off the obvious question.

"Phil."He answers it anyway.

"Dan." The reply comes after his face comes back out of the toilet, and then a few seconds after that he passes out.

And Phil knew it was going to end like this, because it always does somehow. He’s always the carer, always the one who can’t walk away from an idiot. He’s too sensible, probably. His night might be going better if he’d been the one to drink his own bodyweight in Malibu.

He rescues Dan from falling head first into his own sick, props him up against the bathtub because he’s not strong. Because he can’t drag him out the room and into a bed, and even if he could this isn’t his house. Phil shimmies around until he can press his fingertips to Dan’s wrist. He’s not dead, which is always a relief.

And wasn’t there something about making sure people didn't choke on their own tongue? Before Phil could really think about it—blinded by his own panic—he was putting his fingers into the mouth of a complete stranger and—

''Ouch!'' There were suddenly teeth, suddenly teeth that were _sharp_ and clamped down on his skin. ''Let go, fucking hell.'' Dan does after a few seconds, but not before biting down just a _tiny_ bit harder.

And now Phil just feels betrayed, all wide eyed as he looks down at this weirdo vampire who bites helpful strangers. He pulls his hand back just so he can put on a show of cradling his throbbing finger against his chest. ''What was that for? I was trying to —you know! Make sure you don’t choke!”

''Don't like strangers putting their fingers in my mouth.” Dan smiles, but it’s sort of evil looking. “Lucky it wasn't something else.’' Dan carries on because apparently he’s capable of speech now—capable of being a bastard.

“You passed out.” Phil explains, because maybe he can see Dan’s point. Maybe it is weird to wake up to a near stranger putting their fingers down your throat. Phil looks down, and he can see the teeth marks in his skin—probably going to be there for a week.

“Didn’t.”

“You did!” Phil’s trying not to sound petulant, but he’s missing the mark. “After being sick because you were drunk, you know, the two things you were protesting against being.’'

“Hmm. Don’t remember.” Dan shrugs, and then he starts attempting to get himself to his feet which is—awful idea. Phil can see it coming before it actually happens, but he’s too startled by the _everything_ to shout out a warning. Dan’s grabbed onto the shower curtain that isn’t even really attached to the pole properly, using it in an attempt to heave himself up to his feet. It falls down, because of course it does.

“That obviously wasn't going to work.” Phil sighs, and he accepts he’s going to be in for a long night. “You know you've just ruined the bathroom of whoever lives here. Can I help you, Dan, or are you going to vampire me again?”

"Fuck you.” Dan replies, but there’s no bite to it just because he looks so pathetic. He’s all twisted up in a mermaid patterned shower curtain, and he’s definitely got sick on his chin.

“Maybe later, but for now-“ Phil crouches down when he realises there's something else wrong. He thinks doing the shoelace up first is his best bet, because it’s the furthest thing away from those sharp teeth. “Dan, I'm going to help you up, 'kay? After that you're going to have to run before you get charged for the fact you've half ripped the actual shower curtain rail from the ceiling.”

“I did?” Dan twists into a position that means all his bones must actually be made out of playdough, and when he looks up at the ceiling he lets out this tiny little accessory gasp. “Was you. You did that.”

''No, you did that, liar.’’ He manages to rescue Dan from the mermaids, even thought leaving him there would equal an easier life.

But Phil never did go for easy.

“Phil!” Dan blurts, and he honestly looks a bit proud of himself. This smug little grin, this—god, why are bastards allowed to be so pretty? “I remembered. Phil, you broke this bathroom with your big fingers.”

“Makes sense, the bite was to protect the bathroom.” He hoists Dan up onto his feet, holds on just so he can get used to being vertical again. “Think you can walk for me?”

''I'm twenty-one.” Dan says, as though that means literally anything right now.

“Well done, really proud of you. I’m twenty-four.'' And maybe this would work, maybe talking would distract Dan from causing more property damage. ''And I need you to walk with me.’'

And they manage it, for a bit. For a few steps. But then they’re out of the bathroom and in the hallway, and this is when Dan gets all pale again.

"Or be sick again, that's good, too."

''Sorry.'' Dan actually looks apologetic this time, and maybe that’s because Phil’s shoes are covered in sick.

"I hate you. I should've left you with the mermaids." Phil still holds onto Dan though, still assists him outside of the house and into the rain.

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

“Just tell me your address so I can take you home, please.'' Phil’s soaked, but at least his shoes are now sort of clean. He'd lent Dan his jacket because he looked frozen, and in return Dan was giving him absolutely nothing.

“Don't know.” Dan repeats for the tenth time, and he’s looking at Phil like he’s the stupid one.

“Oh my god, out of all the drunks in all the bathrooms in the world.. I get stuck with you.” Phil gives up, decides that if he has any chance of getting home before three it means letting drunk and bitey tag along with him. 

“I like your jacket.” Dan’s been ignoring him—his miniature tantrum—instead intensely focused on the pattern printed on the material. “Think I’m gonna steal it.”

“Are you? Sounds illegal, crimes are… illegal, usually, I think. Don’t know.”Phil has no idea what he’s talking about, gotten all dazed by the sight of Dan suiting his clothes. He speeds up, tries to outrun the thought.

“You're walking too quick! This isn't a race.” Dan says, then he seems to have another—more terrifying—thought. “Is it? Oh my god, is this a race? I can't run, Phil, help me.”

‘’You— no, Dan, this isn't a race. It's just raining and I really, really want to get home.'' He grabs Dan's hand then, opting to drag him along because it seems more efficient. ''How are you so warm?'' Phil asks, baffled. ''It's cold and raining and I feel like i'm holding hands with a radiator.''

He just gets complete silence in return, complete and utter silence. Oh god, has Dan actually died? Was Phil dragging a dead body down the street?

‘’Da—‘’ Phil turns around, the sight he’s greeted with makes his heart go a bit berserk. Dan’s staring down at their joint hands, a proper blush creeping upand settling onto his cheeks. It’s sweet, oddly, and Phil just leaves him be. It was the quietest he'd been all night, and they really were making great time with the whole walking to get out the pissing hard rain thing.

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

Dan only snaps out of the trance when he realises he’s inside. "I don't live here."

"'Oh, hello, welcome back." Phil’s left him in the middle of the hallway, now busy taking off his shoes. They'd began to squelch a couple of blocks ago, proper bubbles coming out the front with every step, and he knew he was going to have to find the money for another pair… somewhere. “No, you don't, this is my flat. You wouldn't tell me where you lived.”

Dan just—seems to accept it, simply nods and leaves Phil to his wet feet.

He finds the guy in the kitchen, clambering up onto the countertops even though there's literally no need. Dan is massive, actually he's taller than Phil which is a rarity—and maybe a bit nice.

‘'Crisps?'' Dan asks.

''What?'' Phil’s trying to mop up the trail of rain water Dan had made on the laminate, going over it with his wet sock wasn’t helping. "You want crisps?''

“Mhm, hungry.” Dan’s opening up every single cupboard, getting more and more visibly frustrated every time he opens one to no crisps. He’s about to open the dishwasher which is mid cycle, so Phil steps in and puts a stop to it all.

‘’Dan.” He tries, softly softly. “Stop it, you're being so loud and I really like living here. Wait there and i'll get you some.'' He plonks him down at the breakfast bar, hopes his roommate doesn’t come in anytime soon to see what all the noise is about. “What flavour?”

"All of them."

“All of the flavours, of course.” Phil should’ve expected it, that’s on him. He bends down and—there’s a wolf whistle. Or at least an attempt at one.

“Your jeans. Arsecrack is out.” And—Dan’s closer. Phil can feel all this heat behind him, and as pretty as Dan definitely _is_ he’s also so drunk that he couldn't even remember his own address. “Good arsecrack.

"Nope, we're doing that anytime soon. Also… really weird compliment." He hands Dan the multi-pack bag of crisps the second he finds them, letting him make the all important flavour choice. "There."

"Finally." And Dans seems to easily forget his previous line of thought, vanishing from Phil's sight the second he turns around to sort out all the destruction—close _all_ the cupboards.

He finds Dan on his sofa—after he finally gets to have a piss—and he’s just a wet lump covered in crisp crumbs. He’s soundly asleep, he snores. If Phil knew him even one percent better he might’ve filmed it.

"Night, idiot."

“Not asleep.”

“Oh!” Phil squeaks. “Sorry. Not an idiot.”

“Phil.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for not leaving me all drunk and alone and drunk… yuck.”

“Yeah.” Phil agrees. “Yuck.”

“Yucky.”

“Shut up.” Phil laughs, leaning over so he can grab the blanket from the back of his sofa. He drapes it over Dan, and Dan is much too big for it—doesn’t even cover his toes. “You’re going to be freezing.” 

“Warn me up?”

“Absolutely not.” But Phil will offer him some pyjamas, and his bed. Phil can brave a night on the sofa, because at least he isn’t going to wake up with a hangover. “Your flirting technique needs some improvement.”

“In your flat, aren’t I?” Dan asks and it’s so fucking… cheeky, all smirks and sparkly eyes. Phil could almost believe Dan set the entire thing up, but the shower curtain and the sick wouldn’t be part of anyone’s plan to pick someone up. 

“Because you couldn’t remember your own address.”

“Maybe.” Dan smiles, and the dimples are unfair. “Want me to leave? Think I remembered.”

“No.” Phil answers. “Course not. Pyjamas?”

“Please.” 

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

Phil wakes up the next morning in his own bed, because no matter how much he insisted Dan had refused.

He’s expecting Dan to be gone.

Maybe he’s not expecting a note with a phone number.

Maybe he’s not expecting Dan to have actually stolen his jacket.

**Author's Note:**

> [if u want to reblog on tumblr, i always appreciate it :D ](https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/644136522924359680/vampire-in-the-bathroom-complete-2331-t-and)
> 
> as always, lemme know your thouuughhhttts<3


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